


the Hevring Crest

by rebelgirl_queenofmyworld



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood and Injury, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mentioned Annette Fantine Dominic, Mentioned Black Eagles Students (Fire Emblem), Rated teen for swearing, Some Humor, Tsunderes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24980437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelgirl_queenofmyworld/pseuds/rebelgirl_queenofmyworld
Summary: a bit of an au where the Crest of Cethleann takes what it gives.aka I love writing angsty shit
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez & Linhardt von Hevring, Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 2
Kudos: 61





	the Hevring Crest

When Linhardt was seven, he was sat down in front of his father and told about the Hevring Crest. His father projected his Crest of Cethleann onto his palm, and explained its power as it undulated in his hand.

Energy cannot be created or destroyed. There is a balance to all magic that kept it controlled. The Hevring Crest could alter the sides of the scale, but it must always remain balanced.

Linhardt’s enhanced healing abilities came with a price. It started out small. A slight ache in his shin after healing a scraped knee, or the rash on his arm after healing a sunburn.

But he managed. The Crest was something to respect, so he accepted the downsides. Saving the people he loved was worth the recurring pain.

The only people who knew about it at Garreg Mach were Edelgard and Caspar. Linhardt refused to tell the professor. All of his other tutors and trainers treated him like he would fall over any second. 

He knew he could help people with his healing and endure the pain afterwards.

Then there was the Battle of Gronder.

He knew Caspar would do something stupid, but he didn’t expect it would be trying to attack Annette.

Sure, she was tiny and fairly weak to physical blows, but her magic was devastating. She was tearing through the battlefield, crushing the enemy with too much rage for such a small woman.

Caspar rushed at her, driving his gauntlet into her side. Normally that would have forced her to retreat, but she survived the blow, and sent strong magic right into Caspar’s face.

Linhardt cursed and finished healing Petra’s sprained wrist. He rushed over to Caspar, who was a pile of stupidity on the ground. Annette had rushed back into the chaos.

This was just like the Gronder battle five years ago. Caspar had foolishly attacked a mage when he had been told oh so many times to avoid them.

His annoyance was quickly being overtaken by the fear it usually veiled. Caspar hadn’t moved from his spot.

Linhardt finally reached his friend and placed two fingers on his neck. He still had a pulse, albeit a weak one.

Annette got him good.

“H-hey, man.”

Caspar began to spout excuses, poor reasons for attacking Annette that leaked out of his mouth with blood.

Linhardt held his breath. Blood didn’t make him retch like it used to, but it still made him sick, especially because it was Caspar’s.

He had to get him out of here.

Linhardt dragged him to safety surprisingly fast with the help of his spike of adrenaline. He and Caspar were hidden in a grove of trees near the edge of the battlefield. It could’ve been an orchard, but he didn’t know. This was Bergliez territory, Caspar would know.

“You’re an idiot and I hate you.”

Caspar grinned slightly at Linhardt’s insult. Dappled light from the grove fell on his pale face. 

Linhardt dragged him behind a fallen tree. Even though Caspar was small, he was heavy. Panting, Linhardt searched for the wound and summoned his magic. The feedback he received from the injury was nearly blinding. The healer gasped audibly.

Caspar weakly pushed his hand away. “Don’t do it. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Healing a wound this big will be an experiment. Just how much can my crest take? Also I don’t want you to die, so please try not to.”

Caspar chuckled, getting flecks of blood on his lips. “I’ll try my best.”

Linhardt tuned him out and put all of his concentration into his healing. He was taught to visualize the flow of magic through a mage’s body. He could imagine all of his magic just flowing out into Caspar. 

His head spun as he wove the white magic through the wound. Linhardt’s breathing became more and more ragged as Caspar’s heartbeat stabilized. The trees were dissolving into a watercolor of green. Within this green, the Crest of Cethleann glowed brightly. Magical energy surged through his veins as his Crest bolstered his healing ability. His mind felt a little clearer.

Linhardt used his newfound energy to focus on the icy blue of Caspar’s hair and continue the healing. He felt the last of the wound being contained. It still needed both magical and physical attention, but the bishop was able to keep Caspar in a stable condition.

The Crest sign flickered in the air, before fading as fast as it had appeared. Linhardt fell forward into Caspar’s waiting arms. He was exhausted, but he had to get back to the battle and heal his allies. He tried to push himself up. Didn’t work.

A slight hum buzzed in his ears as he focused his energy on just trying to get up. 

“Woah! Looks like we need a medic for the medic!”

Caspar waited for Linhardt’s typical scoff at the bad joke, which didn’t come. The healer tried his best to give a sign, but he just had to succumb to the downside of the Hevring Crest.

~~~

He woke up to the soft lights of the infirmary. It was kind of funny, Linhardt saved the infirm and in exchange, took their spot in the infirmary. He smiled.

...He was definitely on some kind of medication. The lights were blending into a watercolor again. He tried to lift his hand to his aching head, but just barely twitched his fingers. He overdid it.

A blob of icy blue entered his blurred vision. 

“You really need to stop over exerting yourself like that. You nearly kicked the bucket this time!”

Once his words slowly made their way through Linhardt’s brain, he cursed. He should’ve gotten help. Dorothea had to be somewhat close. She could’ve helped him manage that healing, but Linhardt had to do it himself all in the name of science.

Yeah, Caspar had nothing to do with it.

He ran his tongue over his cracked lips. How long had he been sleeping? Or whatever he did when he overtaxed his Crest? Linhardt hadn’t blacked out like this too many times. The other times, he was out for minutes, sometimes seconds, but his chapped lips and dry mouth disproved that.

Caspar noticed his plight and grabbed a cup of water for his friend. He lifted it up to his lips and overestimated Linhardt’s ability to drink it fast enough, nearly waterboarding him.

He sputtered and one of the medics came over to his bed. Lysithea’s white hair filled his vision. She had been easily recruited into the Black Eagles, with her dual Crests fueling her to fight against the church.

She placed her frigid hand on his shoulder, and the strange hot and cold feeling of white magic flowed through his body.

“Caspar told me. You’ve been out for hours, so I got to figure out some of it. Crests are so amazing, aren’t they?” Lysithea muttered sarcastically. Linhardt could definitely agree.

Even though the Crest of Cethleann was an honor, it hurt like nothing else he had ever felt. 

The white magic from Lysithea’s hands helped clear his thoughts. He was finally able to focus his vision. Caspar was leaning out of the bedside chair so far that he was nearly standing. His torso had been neatly bandaged by Lysithea and was not looking as horrible as it did. Caspar grinned and Linhardt could see the small spots of dry blood on his face.

“Stop doing your experiments! Especially in battle. Ferdinand had to drag both of you off of that field. Linhardt, you were thrown over his saddle like a bag of flour. It would have been funny if you weren’t so screwed up!”

Linhardt cleared his throat. His words came out scratchy and softly.

“Caspar would’ve died if I didn’t. My Crest can heal others at my expense. I just get hurt in weird ways after healing. I’ve know since I was little.”

Lysithea raised her eyebrows. “That would explain the wound on your stomach! My magic refuses to touch that. I knew it wasn’t a regular wound.”

“On my wha-?”

Linhardt forced his hand to make the arduous journey to his stomach. He could barely feel a twinge of pain under layers and layers of bandages.

Maybe Lysithea’s magic wouldn’t work, but his might…

He gently pushed white magic through his hand and toward the wound. It was a stupid experiment, but this might be his only chance to learn. Lysithea and Caspar noticed a bit too late.

The wound burned hotter than the sun and Linhardt screamed louder than he thought he could. His body involuntarily seized, making him sit up and causing the wound to hurt even more. He had never tried to heal his Crest-inflicted wounds, but it was evident that this one did not want to be healed.

Caspar leaped up and pulled Linhardt’s hand away from his stomach. The healer broke out into sobs, gasping for air. Caspar swore he could hear the scream echoing off of the mountains around the monastery.

Linhardt finally calmed down after a couple of stressful seconds. Caspar held his hand, which was still glowing faintly with white magic. He looked into Linhardt’s watery blue eyes.

“You took care of me at Gronder, let me take care of you.” He smiled sweetly.

Lysithea went off to go take care of another patient, leaving two wrapped candies on the table beside them. Linhardt eyed them.

“I must’ve yelled pretty loud to get her to leave two candies from her personal stash.”

“You have no idea, Lin.”

The healer’s eyes blurred again. Was he crying? “This Crest is… ugh. Why does it do this to me? I didn’t ask for this! Crests are incredible gifts of nature but do all of them do things like this?” He idly gestured to his stomach.

Caspar squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry, Lin. But you shouldn’t beat yourself up over something you can’t control! We are fighting this war to get rid of that stupid Crest system. I hate seeing you in pain like this. I’m happy you have your research, but please let’s save the dangerous stuff like this for after the war. It would tear everyone apart if we lost you like this.”

Linhardt sighed loudly. His blue-haired friend smiled at his annoyance. “If you can be annoyed by me again, you’re definitely doing better.” He unwrapped the two candies and gently put one into Linhardt’s mouth. It was humiliating, but it wasn’t like Linhardt could grab it himself.

Caspar popped his own candy into his mouth and grinned widely at Linhardt.

So this is what he’d have to deal with for however long it took the wound to heal naturally.

Maybe it wasn’t that bad.

**Author's Note:**

> UNNECESSARY EPILOGUE:
> 
> L: This candy tastes like shit.
> 
> C: Agreed. I think it’s black licorice.
> 
> L: Why in Sothis’ name would she give us black licorice?
> 
> C: Well, Lysithea had to wrap bandages around me and try to keep them neat,
> 
> L: *scoff* An impossible feat with how much you squirm.
> 
> C: I’m choosing to ignore that. She also had to bring you back from the brink of death with magic that wouldn’t work with your weird Crest voodoo.
> 
> L: …
> 
> L: Maybe we deserve the shitty licorice.
> 
> C: Yeah, we kinda do.


End file.
